The Last Account in the Life of Bruno
by St.John'sWort
Summary: A short passage describing what happened the night Bruno died.  insert dramatic lighting crackle here


_So, I found this buried under the mountain of extraneous files on my computer and thought I might use it to finally post something here. I think I wrote it in 6th or 7th grade, so, um, be prepared. ^^;_

~.~.~.~

The lighting whipped across the sky, etching a path of light in the blackness. Rain pelted against the earth as the thunder's echo shook the house.

The storm was doing nothing for my headache.

It wasn't as if a rain cloud was out of the ordinary here. Quite the opposite, in fact. The New Orleans weather seemed to be nothing but rain. Normally, I liked this grim, foreboding setting, but today it was significantly more irksome. This particular storm was more violent than most, almost like a death omen.

"Death," I thought, as I settled into the couch, "death is something I'm utterly grateful I no longer have to worry about." But the throbbing of my forehead reminded me that I did, however, have to worry about whether or not my head would explode. "Renee!" I barked "Get me something for this confounded headache!" A groan escaped me as I rubbed my pounding head. On top of this horrible ache in my temples, it seemed my eye was beginning to get irritated as well. Oh, curse it all.

Just as another boom of thunder rattled the windows, Renee came tuttering into the study, some sort of bubbling elixir in her wrinkled hands. Normally I turned down her strange potions, but at this point, I'd accept anything that would relive me. I snatched the green concoction from her and drank it down. Absentmindedly, I saw dirt falling from her onto the rug. Whatever, as long as she cleaned it up later. I set the cup down on the table and wiped my mouth. The drink had tasted like spicy grass; it was one of the better flavored inventions.

"Thanks" I muttered, dismissing her.

"That's what I'm here for, hon." She said in the southern accent of hers, taking the cup and retreating back to the garden. Halfway through the doorway she paused. And turned back to look at me, "Mr. Bolet," she said slowly, "Maybe you should go out and fetch the mail."

Curses, I'd forgotten to get the mail when I came in. I swung my tired legs over the cushion.

"Fine" I grumbled, "I'll get the blasted mail."

Renee smiled. "Good".

Trodding to the door, I looked out and saw the effects of the storm. Rain worked its way down the glass, forming simple patterns on the window. The walkway suddenly seemed much longer than usual. Sighing, I pushed open the door and stepped into the havoc. Almost instantly, my clothes had water pouring off them. The angry rain threatened to overcome me, tiny souls pounding on my clothing, as if raindrops could actually kill me. I cursed myself for not waiting for the storm to ease up. Only a daft would fetch the mail in this weather, I concluded. Finally the mailbox was in reach, after what seemed like ages in this horrid storm. My soaking hand wrenched open the rusty mail box and grabbed its contents. I looked through the mail as my damp feet slapped the chilly stone pavement, eager to get back in the warm building. Junk, junk, bill, junk, cat food coupons. I picket up the latter and scrutinized it closer. Cat food coupons? What in the blazes would I do with that? I tossed in over my shoulder as I reached the door, where it would be washed away by the rain. By tomorrow it would be lost to the world.

Once inside, I shook off my soggy coat and dropped it n the corner of the hall. I was flipping through the mail when one particular envelope caught my eye. When I read the return address, one thought flitted through my mind, "The authenticator." I eagerly ripped open the white paper, and fished out what I had been seeking. I took a deep breath. Calm down, Bruno, I thought, you know it's real. But still, to have a professional conform it… Carefully, and oh-so-slowly, I opened up the letter. "Dear Mr. Bolet," I read, my eyes skimming the paper. "We are sorry to inform you…" Horror wedged itself into my chest, as I frantically read the paper with crazed eyes. I found the phrase "modern-day tools" followed by "fake". I stared at the letter in disbelief, while my insides seemed to turn to ice.

"No, no, no, no, no, no," I moaned, "No! I can't be!" Scared rage boiled inside my stomach, quickly replaced by a far worse feeling, dread. "It's not possible!" I whispered. Suddenly, if felt as if the pain in my head was spreading to my chest; increasing ten-fold. I fell to the floor as a gasp escaped me. Make it stop, Make it stop…I called for Renee as I lie on my back, gasping for air on the floor. She must not have been able to hear me. I wouldn't have been surprised; after all, my voice had been reduced to a horse whisper.

Whisper. The Whisperer. That name hurt almost as much as my upper body. I was wrong. It was a fake. The worst part was realizing without its protection, I would die. Another burst of pain ripped through me. Correction, I thought, with horrible realization, I was dieing. The knowledge stung. It seemed like hot coals had replaced my heart, the pain was that great. Then, like a dream, my world started fading out. I thought the door might have opened, but I didn't know, or care, for that matter. The pain, along with my consciousness, was dimming. The last thing I remember was a low voice calling my name, and Iggy. He had crawled onto my chest and sat there, staring at me with his big, blank eyes.

Then it all went black.

~.~.~.~

_So, that's all. Hope you enjoyed it!_


End file.
